


I Never Took the Easy Way

by SlytherinStarkRavingMad



Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Sexual Assault, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Post-Black Panther (2018), Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Time Turner (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:42:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinStarkRavingMad/pseuds/SlytherinStarkRavingMad
Summary: Hermione is sent to New York after a device is discovered by the MACUSA. It's just her luck that it's at the center of a new Death Eater and Hydra joint ops to change the past to shape the future they desire. Now she finds herself stuck in 1940 trying to stop their plans. She never expected to run into a pair of Brooklyn boys who would change everything. She never expected to find a new family and love.Slow burn story that's part 1 of a series.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! To keep up with some of the happenings in the Harry Potter timeline have been adjusted to fit into the Marvel world. Hermione and crew will be in their mid to late twenties as of 2018. Not sure how long the story is going to end up being but it is going to be a two part series.
> 
> Thank you to Travelilah for being such an amazing beta and motivator. I wouldn't have made it this far without her. Go check out all her stuff because it is fantastic.
> 
> I'll be doing my best to keep a regular updates but there may be some delays due to work and school.
> 
> I own nothing and profit from nothing. Just have a massive love of all the characters and worlds. This is my try at playing with the wonderfulness of it all.

“Did you find it?” a soft voice hisses at the weary figure limping towards the speaker. There was a hint of excitement to the words as the bounced around the vacant office. After spending so much time searching the key to their plans might finally be in their possession.

A bag clatters to the desk between the two. There is a heavy thud and hands are quickly scrambling to get to what is inside.

“Careful you idiot!”

A glare is exchanged between the two before they quickly start clearing space on the desk, small hands trembled as they reached for the bag. Inside could be the object that would change the fate of the entire world, Magical and Muggle. The wooden box was old and appeared to be fused shut. The warding was seeping off the item and stinging the figure’s hands. This was never intended to see the light again.

Years had been spent planning and searching to reach this very moment. They could finally correct the wrongs done to history. “Bring in the curse-breaker. They will either open the box, or we will move on to the next. Our Lord has waited long enough.”

“Just remember the deal that we made. Hydra has provided everything it promised. Do what is needed to finish the mission. We do not accept failure.”

There was a shuffling noise slowly growing louder as two Hydra agents dragged a limp body into the room. Their uncooperative curse-breaker.

The figure glared at the man and brushed a wisp of hair from their face. The audacity of this Muggle to presume he could give the orders. There were few left loyal to their cause after the disaster at Hogwarts. Those that remained resorted to extreme means to preserve their Lord’s plans. That meant collaborating with a muggle organization: Hydra. Their goals were similar enough to be of use.

The remaining Death Eaters were biding their time and using the access to the resources to regain their strength and numbers. Hydra currently provided the needed cover. For Muggles, they were moderately impressive with the weapons and resources at their disposal. There was a thought to retain some of the technology. Could it really be credited to Muggles if all the power originated from mythical sources?

Once their objectives were successful, they would be secure enough to throw aside this Hydra. Let them have their dreams of controlling the world. Their delusion even extended to ruling over wizardkind. Pathetic. No Muggle would be a wizard’s master.

Pulling a wand, a quick enervate hit the slumped form. The curse-breakers head shot up, and fear bled into his eyes. It was commendable that he still tried to struggle while the two guards held him.

“Welcome, sir.” The soft tone meant to ease the frightened man had little success as it was laced with a coldness. “Thank you for joining us.” The box slid slowly across the desk surface. “We need what is inside. You will help us unlock it, or you will be replaced. This shall be your workspace until you are complete. Should you require any tools, please notify your hosts. They will be here to keep you company and provide the needed comforts.” The man landed hard on his needs as he was suddenly released.

The confused and frightened man watched as his abductors and the smaller form turn and leave, the door slamming behind him. Wearily he approached the object they left with him. Everything in him wanted to run. There could be nothing good inside.

*************************

Months. There had been no progress in months. The frustration bred a simmering anger throughout the complex. Each curse-breaker that failed was disposed of quickly. The first had been killed by the very item they were working on. Nowhere had there been a warning that the wards were deadly. At least the pathetic creature had been expendable. Mudbloods were to be used until their purpose was fulfilled. If should they die for the cause they would be little mourned.

Studying the texts in on the desk dark eyes strained to make sense of the information. There had to be a piece missing. The table shook as a fist slammed down on the desk before scattering the books and papers to the floor.

“Temper, temper. It does little good to be so emotional.” Cold, brown eyes glared at the imposing figure standing in the doorway. “Failure doesn’t become you.”

“I suppose you feel you could do better, muggle? By all means, show us how you would open the magically warded box.” A small hand gestured to the simple artifact creating all the chaos.

Scoffing, the man marched to the desk. “Brave talk for a failure. We are not in the habit of keeping failures. I’d advise that you begin producing results.” He moved his hands across the texts. “I want to have the results you promised. I do not care what you intend with this lord you keep referencing. Hydra expects results. If you cannot deliver you are of no farther use to us.”

“How dare you question my progress! This is not a simple matter of breaking a lock.”

“I question because you have given us nothing! Hydra scientists were able to take to humans and create two enhanced weapons in the time it has taken you to fail at opening a box. Because of your delay, there is an additional condition for our support.” Running a hand over hand over the box, he leveled a glare across the desk. “We have recently had our Asset stolen from us. You will see that it is returned or you will see the last of your organization go down in flames.”

The agent raises his hand and signals to the guard outside the door. “To encourage your compliance.” A man is dragged, head of the Death Eaters monitoring the curse-breakers, in and tossed to the floor. “This is what we do with failures.” The man is thrown to the floor and before any could blink a gun is pressed to the back of his head. The noise is deafening and they watch as the blood creeps across the floor.

Holstering the gun and moving to the door, the agents smirks. “Do not fail Hydra. We will not hesitate to do the same to the rest of your small collection of freaks. I’d advice you clean this mess up before the smell becomes unbearable.”

Stay composed until Hydra leaves, the texts are swept to the floor, breaking the glass on the table. A hand slams down regardless of the shards. With fingers bleeding the hand reaches for the box.

Dropping to their knees all those in the room watch the box glow with a red haze as it seems to draw the blood from the wounds. It felt like it was pulling the very life force from the room. Just as it felt like it wouldn’t end until there was nothing left living the sound of a lock disengaging rang through the room.

Panting the figured braced against the desk and stood slowly back up. All this trouble for a damn pocket watch. Their second in command dead on the floor for a pocket watch. If the lore was to be trusted this device would rewrite the course of history.

“Kill the curse-breaker. We have no farther need for him. Leave no evidence that we were here. Tonight we leave for New York and begin our mission.”


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finds out that the Americans need her skills.

New York.   
  
Of all places they could demand she travel to, it had to be New York. The city that had been invaded aliens led by a supposed Norse god a six or so years back. Or at least that’s what she had heard through the grapevine.   
  
The Muggle world was becoming as strange as the magical one. Apparently New York is populated by all sorts of enhanced and villains. Not that Britain hadn’t seen its share of weird. Greenwich was still recovering. The incident in Berlin was still baffling to her.  
  
It seemed the MACUSA’s Department of Unidentifiable Magical Objects had uncovered a device that could possibly be an advanced version of a time-turner. She was currently the Ministry’s foremost archivist and researcher for all time-related things. Naturally, this meant she was the one selected to support and lead this project.   
  
Hermione sighed and closed the thin manilla folder holding the limited information the MACUSA provided. “How long are we anticipating this collaboration to take? My own projects are finally starting to show progress and I don’t wish to see them stalled.”   
  
Accepting the file back with a stern look to the young woman, Kingsley explained, “There is no timeline, Miss Granger. You will remain there until the matter is resolved. I must stress the importance of this task. An artifact like this has unknown potential to be used in all manner of ways we would not enjoy. This is also your opportunity to show that you are able to represent our Ministry on an international level.”  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrow clearly not pleased. “If this was anyone else asking I’d be putting up more of a fight to have you find someone else. I hate the idea of leaving my projects.” Hermione relaxed back into her seat with an exasperated smile. “When should I be ready to leave?”  
  
Bracing himself for the outburst likely to come, Kingsley avoided eye contact as he answered, “The Americans, in their typical brash manner, asked for an immediate response. However,I was able to negotiate a transfer for Monday. You can wrap up the current your work or pass it to a colleague. Take this weekend to pack what you nee-”  
  
“Are you serious?” Hermione exclaimed, lurching forward in her seat. “Kingsley, it’s Thursday! You expect me to pack up months of work and my home in less than four days. Are you mad?” She could feel the heated flush of anger creeping up her face.   
  
How could they believe that was nearly enough time? Her project couldn’t just be handed over to anyone. Hermione opened her mouth to continue dressing down the stoic man before her but wasn’t granted the opportunity as she flinched.  
  
Kingsley loudly dropped the file back onto his desk and leaned back to appraise the twenty-four-year-old woman who could outsmart him easily and possibly out dual him. Part of the reason he wanted her for this was exactly because she hadn’t stopped learning defense since the end of the war. Her mind would always be her sharpest weapon but physically she was more than capable.   
  
“Miss Granger! I’d like to politely remind you that I am the Minister of Magic. If I have a need for you to represent our government as an Unspeakable aiding a foreign ally, it is within my right to assign you as needed. My patience with this outburst has lasted long enough.”   
  
Hermione crossed her arms and continued to stare Kingsley down. She may have matured since the War, but she had remained as stubborn as ever, to the perpetual frustration of many.  
  
Kingsley sighed and rubbed his forehead, his voice became softer as he continued to try and make her see reason, “Hermione, I ask you to take on this project not just because of your knowledge of the field but because I need someone who is competent, not afraid to face things head on, and someone I can trust.”  
  
Gathering a few of the papers Kingsley disclosed, “We have reports of concerning things happening in America. I have my concerns about why this device was found now and what plans there might be once someone figures out what it can do. I need someone that I not only trust but know can think quickly, analyze the situations before making the necessary moves. There can’t be any hesitation should the worst be found. I know this is that last thing you would like me to ask of you, but you’re the best option I have. And don’t even say Harry or Ron could do this. We both know that that you are the silent power in the group. They are good at what they do but they don’t think before acting often enough.”  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes, knowing that there’s no way she could refuse the assignment now. Maybe it wasn’t just Harry trouble seemed to follow. “Fine! You win, Kings. I’m not thrilled about this, but you win. What is the possible threat I’ll have to assess?”   
  
She could see the weariness flash across his face. After having only finished one war a few years ago the idea of another possible threat was not only troubling but exhausting to them both.   
  
“I wish I could provide you with an answer to that, Hermione, but the intelligence we have is spotty at best. Something is brewing, and it’s happening in the MACUSA, but we don’t know when and what to expect. The fact that it’s a time artifact that has come to light is concerning. Add that to the fact that the hostilities from the remaining blood supremacists have virtually disappeared with no new arrests the situation is disturbing. I would like to believe that it is finally quieting down, but there are still too many Death Eaters still unaccounted.   
  
“Understand that you have been granted rights and immunity to act as deemed necessary. Before you leave, you will meet with a liaison here and depart directly after. Few are aware of this allowance, and we will need it to stay that way. Take care, Miss Granger.”   
  
*************  
  
Returning to her office, Hermione pulled her out-of-control curls into a messy bun with a sigh. Surveying her office, the to-do lists rapidly formed. There were a few rare books on time hidden away in her desk that she would need to pack. Her current research lay splayed across her desk disorganized in only a way she understood. It made her almost want to cry thinking of how close she was to a major find and now it had to be placed on hold.   
  
After the war, Hermione had spent a short amount of time studying and sitting her NEWTS. She was determined to continue with her future despite the toll the war had taken on them all. Once her tests had been completed, Hermione dove into studying mind magic in the Ministry’s archives and through the libraries across Britain.   
  
She would never regret altering her parents’ memories since it saved their lives, but she wanted to find some way to correct the damage she caused. Her current project had her working with the Department of Mystery’s Mind Department to determine if there was a way to reset a person’s brain to a point prior to the damage or trauma. If they could find a way to turn back time on the brain before the traumatic event, they might be able to correct insanity caused by the Cruciatus Curse or restore Obliviated memories.   
  
There has been moderate progress, but the current challenge is in how to fix the damage without regressing the patient or removing memories that may be vital to a personality and character. Not all subjects were extreme cases that required a complete regression or wipe. The issue that came with the regression was a whole personality shift and loss of memories of positive times and relationships.   
  
She despised that there seemed to be no timeframe on this trip. There was no way she could adequately prepare. Making a quick decision, she began compiling all her notes and books. Realistically, she should turn this over to one of the Unspeakable or another Archivist, but this was her passion project. This was just too important to her to pass on to someone else regardless of how qualified they might be.   
  
Hermione slumped ungracefully into her desk chair contemplating her next few months. There was something about this assignment that had her on edge. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck in the middle of another fight to save the world or whatever this was. She wasn’t looking forward to telling her boys she’d be leaving for however long on a mission they were not included. She could feel the anxiety creeping up. Since the war, the three had never been far from each other. When her boys took the offer to join the Aurors, Hermione made sure she found a job at the Ministry so that she could be close should they need her.  
  
Until recently the three had been living together in London. Harry had just moved into a newly renovated Grimmauld Place after his engagement to Ginny. Mrs. Weasley expressed her displeasure quite strongly at the idea of her only daughter living with her future husband before marriage and Ron continuing to live with a woman he was not wed. Part of her believed that Mrs. Weasley still hoped that Hermione and Ron’s continued cohabitation would reignite their relationship despite (or perhaps because of) her protests. It was starting to make everyone uncomfortable especially Ron and his lovely girlfriend.   
  
They had really tried to make a relationship work. Once everything settled and they had time to mourn and rebuild, Hermione and Ron began dating. For a time, it was good. They had been high on life and survival. After being on the run and having to hide for their lives, the ability to walk about freely was intoxicating. There was a freedom they hadn’t had in years, and it created a passion, but it was a flash fire instead of an eternal flame. Ron was her first love and she regretted nothing, but after six months together the old differences overtook the highs.   
  
Apparently, war couldn’t make them have the same ideas for their future. She wanted to continue discovering new things and creating change while he wanted to settle down and enjoy not having to battle anyone. It wasn’t much longer until the fighting and bickering started. After one last blow up that took everything out of them, Ron had quietly told her he missed the old Hermione that had been his best friend. That night there had been no sleep, the end of a relationship, and the renewal of a close friendship.   
  
She would never forget how they both cried that night. It had hurt more than she could have ever imagined but Ron, oh darling Ron, had held her tightly telling her how he would always love her but how he couldn’t live without the woman who was his best friend. Their romance ended that night with a warm embrace and a sweet kiss on the forehead. In its place was a friendship that surpassed anything they had ever had before. Harry would always be the brother of her heart but Ron became her grounding force. When Ron finally moved on from their relationship, Hermione fully supported him. Susan Bones was everything Ron needed and wanted.  
  
With Hermione leaving for the States maybe Ron would finally use that Gryffindor courage and ask her to at least move in. If she had her way, Hermione would make sure he requested along with the ring he’d had her help pick out. Susan would never pressure him into anything, but Hermione knew he was ready but nervous. She’d give him one last kick in the pants before she left.   
  
After one last look around, Hermione stacked her books and notes before placing them in her black leather messenger bag. Or as Harry loved to tease her bag of holding. Just like her old purple bag, this one had an undetectable extension charm, a feather-light charm, and heavy warding.   
  
There was a special pocket on the strap to hold her wand that she had purchased after the war. The old one had been lost to her the moment they escaped Malfoy Manor. The new one had chosen her after much trial and error. Oddly enough it was one that Ollivander had been gifted from an American wandmaker, Shikoba Wolfe. It was an eleven and a half inch fir wood wand with a Thunderbird feather core. Mr. Ollivander had told her that it was one of his prized possessions but could not have chosen a better witch. Fir was considered to make a survivor’s wand and favored those of focused, sharp mind and intimidating demeanor while the core was powerful and challenging to master. It was even known to sense danger and cast curses on its own.   
  
Closing up her office was a bit surreal. There was just a feeling she couldn’t shake that she this trip was going to be more than any of them anticipated. She quickly cast wards on the door and made her way to the lobby. The easiest part of done. Hermione was not looking forward to telling Harry and the Weasley clan about this new assignment.   
  



	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has to break the news to the boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter that's the second to last in the modern time. Next chapter will be longer I promise. Leave love and constructive comments to feed my muse!

“Let me get this straight. Kingsley is sending you across the pond, on your own, for no one knows how long, with the suspicion that there is potential for trouble? That’s ridiculous!” Harry mussed up his already unruly hair in frustration. “I’m going to talk to him about this. You can’t be doing this alone.”   
  
Hermione placed a hand on his forearm to stop his charge towards the fireplace and activating the floo. “Harry, I don’t like it any more than you, but he’s the Minister and this is my field of study. It makes sense to send me. I don’t like the idea of not having backup but too many people would call too much attention. And really it’s not like it will be difficult to come visit,” she placated with a rueful smile. “You’re just going to help me tell Ron.”  
  
Harry chuckled and patted her hand. “You’re on your own there. Ron’s not going to like this at all.”  
  
“I’m not going to like what?” At least that’s what they could only guess Ron said. By the looks of the snacks he was inhaling while talking to them he had come in through the kitchen. Ginny always seemed to channel her mother when things started to bother her and the minute Hermione had told them her new assignment she had been off baking.   
  
“Kingsley is sending her to New York City on Monday to help with some old device they discovered,” Harry blurted out with any preamble. “By herself! For as long as the Americans say they need her.”  
  
“Bloody hell! Mione, tell me Harry’s just having a laugh.” Hermione sighs and shakes her head. “Bollocks!” Ron plopped down hard on to the couch.  
  
“Really, you two!” she snapped at the pair of them, hands on her hips. “It’s not like I’m leaving you two forever. You both are just acting ridiculous. For all we know it could be a rather simple matter and I’ll be back in a week.”  
  
“Or it could be months! Knowing our luck you’ll uncover some crazy new magic or diabolical plot to rule the world. Hermione, we haven’t split up like this since our summer hols at school.” Hermione just rolled her eyes at Ron’s whining.   
  
All three jumped as the library doors swung open and Ginny stomped in with a plate piled up with cookies. “Honestly, stop being drama queens, you big babies. We don’t have to like it but this is a great opportunity for Hermione. So stop your pouting and wish her well. Just think how much fun it will be to go visit her over there. Hermione, I expect to have an invite as soon as possible. And I expect to do more than just visit museums.”  
  
With a smirk at her brother and her fiancé, Ginny sat down on Harry’s lap. “Besides, you both need to get over it so you can help her break the news to Mum.”   
  
The three friends looked at each other and just groaned. “Well, that settles that.” Harry patted Ginny’s leg and smiled up at her. “We’re heading to the pub.”  
  
**********  
  
The weekend had flown by too quickly for Hermione’s peace of mind. After Harry rounded up all their friends, the group had stayed out late into the night. Never before had they been more grateful to be wizards and have access to a hangover cure then they were that morning. Giving herself a little recovery time, Hermione spent the rest of Friday packing everything she may need and more.   
  
Harry, ever the worrier, had forced her to take a two-way mirror, a large sum of money from his vaults, and even his Invisibility Cloak. At one point they had butted heads when he tried to insist she take their old tent. It had irked her but she reluctantly agreed after Ginny pulled her aside to explain that this is all Harry knew how to help her when they couldn’t be there. Ron was still trying to figure out how to possibly get transferred closer to be nearby in case of an emergency.   
  
Ginny and Harry were kind enough to take Crookshanks in while she was away. As much as she would love to have her familiar with her Crooks was just getting too old. She didn’t want to put the stress of traveling on him and knew her friends would spoil him enough that Crooks probably wouldn’t even miss her. Once she had him settled at Grimmauld Place, Hermione spent Friday and Saturday packing and storing her things away.   
  
With everything done and the last few errands handled, Hermione left for a visit to the Burrow. Molly, predictably, protested the idea of one of her children being so far away. She thought it unseemly for her young, single daughter to be heading across the globe with no family to watch out for her. Arthur gently placated his wife, reminding her that Charlie was in Romania still whole and healthy so there was little doubt that Hermione would manage on her own.   
  
They finally made the suggestion of inviting the family round for a proper sendoff that hushed Molly’s protests. There was still disapproving murmurs as she sent out the invites for a Sunday brunch, but at least she stopped plotting to send a howler to Kingsley.   
  
As with all Weasley gatherings, it was loud and chaotic with too much food and plenty of laughter. Hermione soaked up the love this family shared. She was going to miss this while she was away. Despite tough patches during school, the Weasley’s hadn’t hesitated to take her in as one of their own. While they could never replace her parents, Hermione was thankful she had them to help fill that little empty part of her heart. They all had tears in their eyes as Hermione said her goodbyes to the people who had become her second family.    
  
Carrying her black messenger bag, and a small suitcase Hermione made her way through the Ministry, eventually finding herself in front of the Minister’s office. Normally all international travel must go through the Transportation Department but this time she’d be leaving straight from the office. Kingsley wanted one last briefing before she met her contact from the US.   
  
Nodding to the secretary, Hermione marched through the doors knowing she was still wearing a thoroughly displeased look.   
  
“Good morning, Miss Granger. Thank you for the prompt arrival. We have a few moments before your liaison arrives.” The Minister placed a folder on the desk and slid it towards her.   
  
“This is all the information I have been able to source for you about the concerning activities. You will see some have been strictly in the Muggle world but we have seen this pattern before. People have gone missing, political opponents disappearing or resigning their campaigns, and unexplained violent confrontations.”  
  
Hermione threw him a look, “Are you sure that it’s not just normal happenings in America? Things have been weird after that alien invasion.”  
  
“I'd rather not leave it to chance, Miss Granger. Some of the missing are prominent Muggleborns and their families. Keep that file on you, but do not share it with anyone until you are absolutely sure they can be trusted.”  
  
Hermione slipped the file into her bag as someone knocked on the office door. “Minister, Mr. Henderson from MACUSA is here. Should I show him in?”  
  
Kingsley waved his hand to have her show him and stood. Extending his had he greeted the older gentleman with a firm handshake. “Welcome Mr. Henderson. I appreciate you joining us. Allow me to introduce Miss Hermione Granger. I’m sure she will be a great help to your research team.”   
  
She stood and shook his hand but the man put in no effort to match her grip, and removed his hand quickly, giving her a cool look. He had to be in his fifties or sixties. His handshake had been weak and limp. All she could think about was her father’s preaching that a person’s handshake reflected their character. This was going to be a long trip before it had even started.   
  
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Henderson. I look forward to working with your team. Has there been any new developments since the MACUSA first reached out to us?”  
  
“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger.” Hermione hid a chuckle because his voice sounded anything but pleased. “I’ve heard many praises for your work. Our department looks forward to this collaboration.”  
  
Taking his seat, Mr. Henderson answered her question as if Kingsley had been the one to ask. “I have not been informed of any new developments. The main purpose of this meeting is to settle all paperwork before you join us stateside. We wish your visit to be as seamless and as quiet as possible.”  
  
His forced smile put Hermione on edge. So the Americans didn’t like the idea of seeking outside help. The man passed a stack of papers to her. “Here are your travel papers and wand registration form. We have provided you with the appropriate identification materials. Due to the nature of this collaboration we have designed these specifically to adapt to whatever time or region you may find yourself.”   
  
Kingsley and Hermione made eye contact. Hermione lifted her eyebrow in question and he just shook his head telling her to drop it for now. “Accommodations and transportation to and from have been arranged and you will find the information in your packet. Due to the nature of this partnership we ask for strict confidentiality and require you to sign a nondisclosure agreement. Minister Shacklebolt has assured me that this should not be an issue.”  
  
Hermione signed the paper before she accepted the information packet that was passed to her. There was an envelope inside that she assumed held the keys to her new residence. “Any other matters you may wish to discuss can be addressed once we reach New York.” Bureaucrats and their endless paperwork drove her mad.   
  
“Miss Granger, I’m sure you will have everything well in hand. Do be safe and make sure you some time to enjoy yourself. Try and actually get away from the books every now and then.” Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled fondly at her friend before leading her liaison out of the office and to the International Travel Department. It would be a quick trip to France before using a portly to travel to New York City.   
  
Hermione couldn’t place it but something about this man didn’t sit well with her. As they walked, he seemed too familiar with the Ministry’s confusing layout and kept trying to subtly watch her.   
  
She had never become use to being stared at since the war. The magical community had an unhealthy fascination with the so-called Golden Trio. Just running errands could be a tedious affair. There was something different about Mr. Henderson’s quick but constant looks. There seemed to be a touch of anger and malice.   
  
Every new piece of this tip was making Hermione resent Kingsley for the lack of prep and information. She sighed as she shifted her bags and sent a silent prayer to any higher power to grant her patience and keep her breathing. Why did it feel like she was channeling Harry Potter?


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione settles into New York and meets with her new team. Why does trouble seem to follow?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY I give you a much longer chapter. 
> 
> Probably should have included this at the beginning but for the sake of comparative ages and to make all the time frames match the events the Potter universe didn't happen in the 90s. The story is set post CW and pre IW. Hermione and crew are in their early 20s at this point. I didn't want to have the any of the characters seem to be out of age for the the situations they will be in.

All she wanted to do was find the closest bed and pass out. The magical jet-lag had gotten to her worse than she thought it would. It would be a while yet before she could seek any kind of rest though. Because from the moment she’d entered the MACUSA’s offices, Hermione had been directed from the International Visitor’s Check-In and then was sent off to the Magical Quarantine and Inspections to clear customs. Then they had detoured over to yet another division that she was just too tired to even remember the name of. The whole practice of the Wand Registry bothered her on so many different levels, but she recognized there was a practicality, still it felt incredibly invasive.

As promised, the license she was given would apparently register her magic, no matter what year or area of the United States she might find herself. They had specially crafted it for the few people that were working on this project or anyone in the government with clearance to a time device. She had to admit, it was quite handy, especially when you considered that they didn’t know what the device was a capable of yet. Hermione was eager to get her hands on it and uncover the plethora of secrets it had been buried with.

After the seemingly endless paperwork had been completed Mr. Henderson, who hadn’t left her side all day, finally guided her to a heavily warded room. She could feel a ripple in them as they adjusted to recognize her magical signature. Once the wards had settled in around them, Hermione was introduced to the research team she’d be joining.

The team was surprisingly small, despite the study of the artifact being such an important undertaking—in her opinion, anyway. It was headed by a stony man in his mid-sixties named Mitchell Brown and his mousy assistant and junior researcher, Lisa Phillips.

Hermione was handed a stack of all the research they had complied so far. Along with all the information came orders from Mr. Brown to catch up quickly as possible. Miss Phillips barely breathed a word in her direction.

Hermione was shown to a small office space that they designated for her use. They spent a few hours debriefing her before finally noticing the time difference was affecting her. Brown briskly dismissed her, knowing there was little she could do until she slept, with the instructions to report back by nine the next morning. Miss Phillips directed her out of the department filling the air with a stream of chatter Hermione couldn’t recall a word of.

Once they returned to the lobby Mr. Henderson reappeared at her side. With few words exchanged, he accompanied her to the furnished apartment that the MACUSA was providing. He took a brief moment to connect her floo to the MACUSA lobby and her office before leaving his contact information in case she needed anything.

She knew that she should unpack her clothes and set up her new living space but, as Mr. Henderson left, Hermione could already feel her remaining energy draining out. Hermione stumbled slowly back to her new bedroom and flopped down on the bed. There wasn’t even a moment to think about changing into her pajamas or even crawling under the covers. The last thought she had was how thankful she was that they’d gifted her with a bed that felt heavenly.

* * *

 

  
The next morning, Hermione woke early enough to explore her neighborhood and was lucky enough to find a charming independent coffee shop. After a quick cup of passible tea she ordered some pastries and coffee to go for her new team. Maybe it would be a nice enough gesture to reduce the tension.

Even with her side trip, Hermione arrived at the office before anyone else. She took these precious moments to set up her work space, make copies of all the files they would need, and the less delicate books that were tied to their research. If she had copies in the office and at home it would help her move this project along quicker and she’d be able to return to her own projects sooner. As she was finishing up all the transfers and copying her new coworkers arrived, helping themselves to the food and drinks she’d left on an empty table space in the middle of the room.

Hermione greeted them as they settled in. Miss Phillips offered a shy smile while Mr. Brown only nodded her way. Looking over her shoulder, Mr. Brown nodded towards her office, “Making yourself comfortable already?” His tone surprised Hermione in its hostility.

She quirked an eyebrow and took a sip of her coffee. She wasn’t going to dignify such behavior with a reply. Her patience with his attitude was bound to be tested quickly.

Turning his eyes back to her he scowled as he said, “Understand this, Miss Granger. This is my project. I have no desire to invite a Brit into this, much less you.” His sneer was audible. “I could not care less about who you are or what they say about you. You may think your celebrity status over there means something here but it doesn’t. I won’t have my discovery usurped by you. As long as we are clear on that we should work together just fine.”

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes at the posturing before flashing a sickeningly sweet smile. “Fair enough, Mr. Brown. Then you should understand that it was not my choice to be here. The request was sent through and the Ministry selected me. I assume they felt you weren’t making the necessary progress quickly enough.”

Hermione tried to stifle her amusement as the red flush which creeped up his neck. “Mr. Brown, you are the lead on this collaboration. That isn’t something I planned on challenging. I am here to assist as needed and not to have a measuring contest with you. Now shall we begin?” Refusing to back down, Hermione held Mr. Brown’s indignant stare while maintaining a slightly condescending smile of her own.

The older man broke eye contact first, turning to glare at Miss Phillips. With a growl he ordered the poor girl to bring out the device so that their ‘guest’ could begin ‘assisting’ them.

Upon her return, the group gathered around a table as Miss Phillips gently placed the device down. If this really was a time-turner, it’s unlike any she’d seen before. Instead of rings and an hourglass design she was used to, the device in front of her appeared to be a pocket-watch.

Made from what she could only assume is gold, its cover has a sky map etched in meticulous detail. There appeared to be symbols from Celtic astrology along the edges. Delicate knot work was carved into the sides and at top sat a raven. It was larger than any pocket-watch she’d seen before. It looked like it was larger than the palm of her hand. Picking it up, Hermione could feel a warmth emanating from it. It was eerily similar to the cursed locket but this magical device didn’t feel malicious. The feeling was hard for her to place at first, but she was eventually able to pinpoint it as a longing. Almost like it was waiting for someone.

Pressing the raven, the cover swung open to reveal a piece of pure beauty. The inside seems to have been carved from jet. There were the familiar rings of the time-turner set into it, though they only be spun clockwise and counter-clockwise. Each ring had silver runes engraved into them. She’d never seen a device with so many rings. She knew for sure, that this wasn’t an ordinary time-turner.

This, if she assumed correctly, would have the ability to not only send a person back hours or mere minutes. No, it looked like it could feasibly send a person back months, years, or possibly even decades. Her chest tightened with a flash of fear but she swallowed it down. The potential this device presented to cause chaos was terrifying.

Mr. Brown’s voice cut through her thoughts as he crowded her space. “We’ve been able to identify the runes on the front and some on the watch face. There is writing on the back which has us puzzled. What we have deduced is that the glyphs appear to be the key to making the device work.”

Hermione’s head shot up and she fixed him with an incredulous stare. “Work?! You mean to tell me you’ve tried to use this thing without fully knowing what it is capable of? That is unbelievably reckless!”

“It wasn’t that dangerous, Miss Granger.” Miss Phillips pointed towards one of the rings with a shaky finger. “We deduced that this ring was what controlled the minutes. When we decided to test it we only moved this one a few spaces.”

She made eye contact with Hermione, who was surprised to see no trace of the usual meekness. "You are probably feeling a current going through the device. When I first picked it up it sent a shock through my hand and felt like ice to Mr. Brown. When we adjusted the ring it seemed to be drawing a bit of energy from the holder but that faded quickly. What do you feel?”

Hermione studied the device in her hand warily. The thought that it drew energy from the user was not something to be taken lightly. She could feel the device settling heavier in her hand. There was a low vibration that traveled from in and through her hand.

“Heat. I feel a low heat and a sense that it’s waiting for something. I don’t recognize the runes on the back. I may have some books that can help. Is there sand anywhere in this?” She lifts the device up to examine it from different angles, trying to see if she can catch sight of any granules.

Miss Phillips stringy brown hair swung as she shook her head. “None that we have seen.”

Both women jumped when Mr. Brown dropped a stack of books on the table. Hermione hadn’t even noticed him leave the room. “Miss Granger, see if you can find anything in your materials about the runes. Lisa, make yourself useful and look through these. See if you can determine all the time increments I want to see all notes before either of you leave for the day.”

Returning to her normal meek self, Miss Phillips, well Lisa now, she supposed, grabbed up all the books and quickly scurried off with what looked like a flash of anger. Hermione had to be imagining it, Lisa had been nothing but timid and cooperative since they’d met.

Shaking the thoughts away, Hermione turned back to the device. “I’m going to copy these runes down so I can start to work out a translation. If we can lay them out better it may make identification easier.”.

An hour later she had all the runes transcribed and she was completely baffled. From what she could tell there was a mixture of rune types. At the very least there was Norse and Anglo-Saxon. There may have been one more that she was unfamiliar with that could be a combination of both.

How this device made it to the Americas was beyond her. If she could just translate parts she might be able to decipher the meaning of the mystery markings. One thing was very clear though: the creator of the device did not want just anyone to use the watch.

Lisa sat near and kept an easy conversation going. Hermione enjoyed having the chance to explain what process she was used to translate the runes, and breaking down the components of each one. The collaboration had turned into a training session but it worked well for the both of them.

The only issue she had was contending with was the shared workspace. Books and notes were not in the places she left them and sometimes went missing all together. Whenever she brought it up Mr. Brown criticized her ability to maintain her space. Hermione suspected tampering, but hadn't been able to turn up any proof. Security tighter than the stitches on Mrs. Weasley’s sweaters. It was still suspicious when books and notes were put away in one place and found in another the next day.  
After everything she had been through during the Second Wizarding War, Hermione had started to leave all her notes in code. The journal she used was spelled to duplicate everything that she wrote down to a companion journal she kept in her apartment. She had taken inspiration from the Marauders Map. If someone didn’t know the correct phrase to unlock the notebook it would show nothing but false translations, half notes, and insults.

Some could call her paranoid, but this object was too important and dangerous to allow anyone outside the researchers to know of its existence. The same journal held every bit of progress she had made in her personal projects. It was one of her most valued possessions.

While the pocket watch could very well be the earliest version of time-turner ever created, it was truly unlike any she had experienced before. If her translations were correct it would be able to transport the holder to any point in time that they may desire. There were limitations to how many people could be transported. The numbers impacted the distance back in time the users could travel. There was also the energy factor to worry about and where it was sourced from, but she thought she was getting close to cracking the code on that.

Hypothetically, this meant one person could potentially travel back centuries or maybe even millennia. It would require the foreknowledge of what existed in the area and that it would be a safe area to land. The other thing she was shocked to discover was that it didn’t create a loop. With how far back a person could travel there was no limitation on how long the traveler could stay in the past. Which meant this device had a component that allowed the traveler to move forward to the point they started.

The very idea terrified her. No longer would the holder be bound to their own timeline. The potential to change _everything_ was astronomical and unsettling, to know that such power existed. In the wrong hands, the world as they knew it could cease to exist. Even the most well-intended person could be tempted to try and alter history for what they believed to be better. If they did such a thing there would be no way to tell if it was an improvement over the original or not.

Hermione’s concerns over the security of their project impressed upon her that it would be a good to leave a trail of false notes that implied she’d cracked how to make the device work. If what she was suspected was correct she planned to hint that she was leaving the office early one day. She warded her office space to notify her to anyone entering.

Walking home, she reflected on the lengths she was having to go to in order to protect her research. On a whimsy, she dreamed that maybe, one day, she’d be able to live a normal life, with a normal job.

With her track record, she doubted that dream would ever be a reality.

* * *

  
The next day, Hermione approached Mr. Brown with part of what she’d uncovered about the pocket watch. She wasn’t the least bit surprised that he was dismissive of her concerns about how powerful and sensitive the device was. In typical project manager fashion, all he cared about were results: her notes and runic calculations on statistical odds of a successful time jump were correct and fool-proof.

The idea that they would want to test it, not just on a theoretical level was daunting. Hermione was convinced that it could be easily accomplished, but there was no way to predict what impact it could have. Predicting what could happen on paper was vastly different from the actual outcomes: such as completely altering the timeline–which would be breaking the biggest fundamental rule of time travel: Do not change anything.

For all they knew though the device could be powerful enough to create alternate timelines with each jump. Or alter the entire universe. Some research suggested time was a loop and everything that happened was exactly what was supposed to happen. There were just too many variables for her to contend with, which just made it all the more dangerous and unfathomable that the American’s were contemplating testing it.

Mitchell Brown’s single-minded focus on his own notoriety was something Hermione found loathsome. The goal of any discovery, in her mind, was that it should be to bring new found knowledge into the world and not to inflate someone’s ego. Hermione was no stranger to hard work and little sleep, but the demands the man placed on her were exhausting. She pulled long hours and only saw her bed every other day while he kept the nine to five life.

Frankly, it was a little disappointing, even though the device was fascinating. A little bit of sightseeing would have been a welcome break. It’s not like it would have actually impacted her work. Instead, she was locked in a battle of wills with a bullish man who was dead set on testing a magical device they were only on the brink of understanding. All because Hermione _may_ have discovered how to use the pocket watch.

Mr. Brown decided that he would ignore the risk, even though it wasn’t him who’d be testing it and proceeded under the illusion that they knew exactly what would happen. It didn’t matter to him as long as the success was credited to his name. This man incited far too many flashbacks of former Ministers.

Hermione had spent much of the morning arguing against putting aside the research. The entire situation was caused heavy tension and sense of disquiet. Every single red flag she had was raised. Was the goal just the prestige of discovery or was this what Kingsley warned her about? If she was back home she’d be more concerned about some blood purist trying to bring back Voldemort but in America it seemed like a far-fetched thing for them to do.

Miss Phillips sat to the side quietly observing the minor power struggle, nodding along to points each sides was making. Every now and then she’d ask questions of both of them to help clarify their points. There was an odd hunger in the way she followed along to their argument.

Hermione could relate to the need to absorb more and more information that the young woman must have been feeling. For all her timidness, Lisa seemed to have a hand in all the research. This was probably her first assignment since leaving school so there was a need to prove her worth. It would be prudent to keep an eye on Lisa. She was, likely, the person going through Hermione's notes in a need to know more and maybe establish a name for herself in their field.

They walked through the office door and Hermione threw her bag down by the door. “What an incompetent, egotistical, narcissist arse. Is there something in the water here that breeds that? The stupidity of just jumping into experimenting with an unknown magical artifact is obscene! He would rather rush ahead and risk history and the timeline itself instead of waiting for more accurate information. I’m growing tired of people being more concerned with their careers than genuinely wanting to research new discoveries.” Hermione rakes her hands through the mess of curls and sits heavily in the chair.

Lisa coughed out a laugh. “You know he’s threatened by you, right?”

She raised her hands to placate Hermione’s aggravated scoff. “Hear me out. Not only did they bring in someone from outside our department but they brought in you. Miss Granger, you are not only famous, but outstrip most in the intellectual arena. Not to mention, you have experience with time devices. Hell, according to your file you’ve been around time devices since you were thirteen. Most of us don’t get their first peek a time turner until we’re 20! Events showed the world that you have no problem challenging authority and you are everything he hates the most. You are younger, smarter, and more influential. Everything he wants to possess, you already own. Your involvement in this project changed all our, _his_ , plans.”

Hermione took a moment to consider Lisa’s words. The more time she spent on this project the more she wished that Kingsley would’ve picked someone else for this hellish assignment. Too many things were connected to this device that were not on the level but what all of them were was giving her a headache.

The minute they discovered what this thing could do she knew someone would make plans to use it for their own devices–the most predictable to be changing the course of history. After everything Hermione had already battled, she believed her instincts when they told her something was off.

She knew far more about the time device than she’d shared. Last night, she’d been unable to sleep and spent more time trying to decode the remaining runes. The safest thing she could do would be to never share what she discovered. Should a person use this device and make changes, it would ripple through time, making permanent changes on the world. There would be no going back to fix it either.

Hermione found that the device did have a limit to how often it could be used; the distance back in time one traveled dictated how quickly it could be used again. One day back and it needed to reset for half an hour. One week needed three and a half hours. A month needed a few days and it just kept growing. There was no real way to predict how long before it could be used again after that. Travel too far back and the traveler could end up stuck.

While it could send someone back to the time the traveler is originally from there is no guarantee it will actually be the exact moment they traveled from. It would be the general timeframe but the person could come back hours, days, maybe even weeks after the initial travel.

From what Hermione could tell the device they had found was an abandoned prototype that had belonged to a cancelled experiment. Much of what she discovered was inference only and some obscure passages in her rarer books.Based off the runes and images it was Gallic in origin.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, Lisa, but I’m exhausted so forgive me. How would you feel about us taking the rest of the day off? I spent far too much time working last night and not enough sleeping. It’s Friday and I think we have earned an early start to the weekend.”

Lisa perked up and moved to sit near Hermione’s desk. “Did you find something?”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Was the eager look in her excitement over information or something more? Or was Hermione just channeling Moody in her exhaustion? Constant vigilance was for during the times of War, right? And it would be nice to share her discovery with someone, since there was no way she’d be sharing anything with Mitchell Brown anytime soon. Could she share with Lisa Phillips?

No. Not yet. She needed to ferret out the possible threats that Kingsley cautioned her about. She’d contact Harry through their mirrors later tonight to see if he had any advice on the situation.

“It’s nothing, Lisa. Just a few words translated but nothing helpful. I’ll probably work a little more before heading home early, too. But do enjoy the day. At least one of us should remember what sunlight feels like.”

“If you found something, Miss Granger, you shouldn’t be keeping it from the team. There are important people that are eagerly waiting for our discoveries.”

“I’m sure they can wait one more weekend. I don’t put much trust in higher ups who demand information be found within, what they deem, acceptable timeframes. That’s how mistakes are made or the wrong people get access to things that could harm the population.” Hermione stood and with a wane smile at the woman motioned to the door. “Go home, enjoy some time away, and we will start back up on Monday.”

If Hermione paid just a bit more attention to that cautious voice she would have never turned her back on anyone. If she was smarter and less exhausted, she wouldn’t have missed the look of anger and resentment on the mousy woman’s face. She most certainly would have seen the curse coming straight for her.

* * *

  
The pounding in her head was the first thing Hermione registered as she slowly regained consciousness. Thankfully, the lighting was dim enough that opening her eyes didn’t add to the pain. Not sure of where she was or who it was that had attacked her, Hermione thought it best to pretend she was still unconscious. At the moment, it appeared as if she was alone.

Whoever attacked her had clearly overestimated their curse’s power. From the woozy feeling that she couldn’t seem to shake Hermione suspected they had slipped her something too. Curious to have Muggle tactics used in the magical world.

After taking a closer look around from her position on the floor, Hermione found that she was still in her office. They had even left her messenger bag by the door. She wasn’t close enough to be sure but it didn’t even look like they had tried to go through it.

She’d never admit it to his face but right now she silently thanked Harry for all his paranoia. Her own paranoias might be what gets her out of this mess, too. Her wand should have reappeared in the messenger bag pocket. If her attacker hadn’t grabbed it first.

There is a rush of panic as Hermione realizes that while their curse might not have been as strong as they anticipated they had been smart enough to bind her hands and feet. Struggling against the restraints proved they were tied tightly. She felt the cold slide of sweat creep down her forehead. It wouldn’t be impossible to escape but it would take time Hermione wasn’t sure she had.

Hermione worked to keep her breathing even as she battled flashbacks of another time she’d been exposed and vulnerable on a cold floor. She counted as she inhaled and exhaled to hold off hyperventilation. She kept reminding herself that she knew her surroundings and all she needed to do was reach her bag.

She held her breath as voices echoed from the other side of the door. She couldn’t hear what was being said. Their voices sounded angry with each other. She filed that away for possible use later.

Breathing deeply, Hermione considered the ties around her wrists. Fairly straight forward, they had tied her arms behind her back. If she could get enough leverage she’d be able to maneuver her hands to her front.

Cautiously, she pulled her knees up to her chest and shifted to bring her arms down. Her eyes stung with the sweat rolling down into them. She slowly passed her feet through the circle of her arms until she’d passed her body through and had her hands in front.

Rope. Poorly knotted rope but heavy. Her teeth picked at the ropes tying her feet together frantically until they loosened. Quickly, Hermione rolled to her feet crouched at the end of her desk.

She jumped at the loud bang that rocked through the office from the research room. The voices grew louder. The noises grew more desperate. Whoever was out there had to be tearing apart the research table.

Hermione dreaded the thought of what might have happened to Lisa. The woman had been here with her but disappeared. She hadn’t considered that maybe the pushover a woman might be involved.

The door rattled as a book slammed into it from the other side. Hermione held herself very still. A man’s voice broke through and she couldn’t place it. He yelled at whoever was with him about their plans having been disputed enough. “Now make the fucking thing work!”

Bollocks! The time device.

“Get the Mudblood out here to decipher her damn notes. They are out of patience and you will fulfill your promise. Or you will die.”

Shit. They were coming for her now. She had to move quickly.

Hermione decided to forget about being quiet and scrambled to reach her bag. Thank Merlin, she could see her wand sticking out of pocket. She wrapped her hands around it as the office door slammed open.

With barely time to think or see who her capture was, Hermione fired off a quick stunning spell. It slammed into the figure who dropped heavily to the floor.

His face caught the edge of the desk on his way down and his head clipped the corner of the desk, striking him solidly in the temple. One down.

After a sparing a moment to slice the ropes off her wrists, Hermione pressed herself against the wall nearest to the open door. She couldn’t hear anything but she knew at least one more person had to be there. She quickly poked her head out to try and get an idea of what is out there.

Her hair was singed as a curse goes rocking past her head. Well that certainly confirmed there was at least one more person out there. Throwing the messenger bag strap over her shoulder, Hermione cast a _Protego_. She took a deep breath and flattened herself as close to the floor as she could.

She crept forward to the next table that offered cover. Right above her was an old looking box carved with the same runes on the watch. Her hand shot up and grabbed it as another curse flew past.

Whoever fired at her was blocking the only door out of the department. Hermione needed to find a way out before the one she took down woke up or reinforcements were called. At the rate the curses were coming there could only be one person attacking.

Hermione stood and strengthened her shield as she scanned the room. On the other side of the room, Hermione saw the body of Mitchell Brown sprawled at an awkward angle.

Her breath exhaled in a rush as she saw the tiny frame of Lisa Phillips standing over him. “Miss Granger. You are really causing too much of disruption to our plans.” She threw the notebook Hermione kept in her office at Hermione’s feet. “Tell me what it says and maybe I’ll let you live long enough to see the world become what it should always have been.”

“Let me guess. Blah, blah, blah, Dark Lord, blah, blah, blah, Pure-blood supremacy. This song and dance is getting old.” She took perverse pleasure at the woman’s anger to her flippant attitude.

“Your Dark Lord was a pathetic substitute to my master. The worthless half-blood means nothing to us. I admit the first hope was to bring him back but I’ve been shown a better choice for our future: _Hydra_.” She rolled her sleeve up to show Hermione the tattoo on her left forearm.

Hermione could see where it once was the Dark Mark but it had been altered. Along side the serpent spewing from the skull’s mouth there were now red curling tentacles. It was disturbing.

“Fantastic,” Hermione snarked, “You’ve found yet another terrorist organization to follow. Do you want an award?” She knew if she could make the woman angry enough she might slip enough to be taken down. She shifted her stance prepared to move quickly.

Lisa whipped her wand around and pointed it directly at Hermione’s face. “I take great joy in the fact that the world’s top Mudblood is the one that unlocked the key to our victory. Shame you won’t be alive to see the world remade.”

Hermione dove as the curse careened towards her. She can feel the heat of it sting her arm with how close it comes to her. The smell of burning skin filled the air. Quickly, she used her momentum to kick out the chair neatest her. It slammed into the side of her attacker causing the crazed women to stumble and crash into the desk.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Hermione rolled into a crouch to survey the room. The two attackers had blocked the door out of the research room with some of the office furniture. Behind her the unknown man stirred.

It was going to be now or never.

Hermione lunged up from her position and rapidly spewed curses at the two before they could collect themselves and counterattack. She heaved a chair and heard as it splintered against a hastily cast shield.

She continued to magically fling furniture and books at the two to keep them distracted from her main objective. Not a few feet in front of her sat the pocket watch on top of a collection of notes, photos, and what looked like a map.

A hiss escaped her lips as a well-aimed severing charm cut into her calf but Hermione pressed forward. Frantically, she grabbed the items and shoved them into her bag but kept a firm grasp on the pocket watch.

Behind her little mousy Lisa Phillips let loose a high pitch screech the moment she realized what Hermione had taken. “Kill her! Do not let her leave with that!”

The wall next to her exploded as she dodged a _Reducto_ curse. Not bothering to try and wrench the door open, Hermione bolted through the newly formed hole as bits of plaster rained down on her.

Once in the empty hallway she sprinted, putting distance between her and her attackers. The air burned her lungs as she tried to breath past the pain radiating up her leg. _Why was it that no one could be found when everything was going to shit?_

Heavy footfalls thundered behind her, gaining on her. She could feel the cold sweat rolling down her back as she pushed herself harder to get away.

Not bothering to turn around, she flung a _Stupefy_ over her shoulder. She almost stumbled in her shock as Hermione heard a yell and a loud slapping sound as a body slammed into the stone floor.

Hermione cried out as her knees cracked against the ground after she was hit by a knock back jinx. She clawed at the ground as she stumbled trying to get back to her feet.

In her left hand the pocket watch seemed to pulse.

Her head snapped back as Lisa’s hand gripped her hair. “Dirty bitch. You won’t stop Hydra from changing history. Give me the device. Once I kill you, I leave to cement our mastery of this pathetic world.”

“You crazy-types talk too much.” Hermione's head snapped to the side as the woman’s hand slapped her face with an echoing crack.

“Give me the watch now!”

Hermione clutched the pocket watch tightly and pressed the hinge at the top as she jerked her hand out of the mad woman’s grasp. At the same time she took her other hand and reached behind her grabbing the woman’s ankle to pull her down to the floor.

The two struggled against each other on the ground trying to overpower the other. In her hand, the pocket watch pulsed in time to Hermione’s own heartbeat. The curly haired witched rolled and managed to pin the crazed woman.

In the same instant Hermione felt a jerking sensation behind her navel similar to the feeling of a Portkey activating. She whipped her head to look at the now glowing watch in her hand and went white.

The next thing she could register was the world around her melting away in a blur as her stomach heaved violently. She couldn’t tell if the panicked scream was her or the woman beneath her.

Just as quickly as it started, the world shifted back into focus as they found themselves outside in some dirty alley. Dusk was settling in and everything felt different. There was a current of anticipation in the air.

A wheezing laugh started from the woman below her and Hermione had just had enough. She pulled back and used all her remaining strength to land a solid punch to the woman’s head, shutting her up as she was knocked unconscious.

Hermione staggered to her feet and braced herself against the side of the alley. She could feel her chest tightening as she battled to breathe. The adrenaline was draining out of her body as she staggered away from the body behind her.

Casting a quick look around Hermione was fairly confident thinking she was still in New York City. She made her way to the street at the opening of the alley and sighed in relief when she spotted a discarded newspaper.

Her relief was short lived as she read the date over and over. She prayed that her eyes were lying to her but knew better.

 **LONDON HOSPITAL BOMBED:**  
**R.A.F. BATTERS BREMEN**

 

There in her hands the words stared up at her. The headlines of New York's Daily News headlines from October 9nd, 1940.

“Shit.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chap. Attempted sexual assault. There is nothing graphic and it doesn't make it very far into the attempt but it's alluded to. I wanted to make everyone aware just in case. 
> 
> I'm so sorry it has taken so long for me to get an update out. I currently work full time, have a part time job, and am attending school part time so moments to focus on my creative writing have been not as abundant as I would like. I already have the next chapter plotted out but I can't make any promises as to when it will be here. Please enjoy this one. Feel free to follow me on tumblr. I can be found under my pen name. I'll be trying to share snippits and sneak peaks of what I have in the works. There's a fun ShieldShock piece I'm working on but trying to finish it before I post it.

  
Hermione wanted to be more shocked than she felt. Somehow, she’d ended up seventy-seven years in the past. At her feet Lisa Phillips laid sprawled unconscious on the ground. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

  
Merlin, how was this her life? This time she couldn’t even blame anything on her walking trouble magnet of a best friend.

  
She fell back against the wall as a wave of nausea hit. She started to slide down the wall short of breath as all the implications flooded her brain. She didn’t belong here--too many things could go wrong or be changed unintentionally. No one knew what had happened to her back home. Would they noticed she was missing or had her time come to a standstill? Was it just waiting and changing with each action Hermione made?

  
Hermione braced her clammy hands on her knees and dropped her head between them. She took a few deep breaths to hold off the panic creeping up on her. She knew she was boarding on hyperventilating as she tried to calm her breathing before she passed out.

  
How long was she trapped here? If her calculations had been correct before she would be here for quite a bit. She’d read enough to know coming back this far could be disastrous.  
Once she’d figured out what to do with her would-be murderer and found a place to hide away, she’d need to work out the calculations. Mentally she ran through the numbers. Logic and problem solving soothed the panic. If the numbers were correct, it would seem the earliest, they could leave would be two years from now.

  
Her body felt a drain as if the time jump had fed off her magic. She wasn’t powerless, but it was going to be a bit before she would feel normal. Hermione couldn’t let on that she was feeling less than at her peak. With her injuries and the magical strain, she was suffering and at risk.

  
Hermione eyed the woman at her feet with a stony expression. Logically, she knew that she should just end Lisa Phillips and be done with it. As much as she understood that was the best option, Hermione could not bring herself to become a cold-blooded murderer. When it was a life and death situation, she’d never hesitate to defend herself, but it was something else altogether to kill her opponent when they were already incapacitated.

  
Besides, Hermione still needed her breathing so little mousy Lisa Phillips could explain whatever she had been trying to accomplish. She wished that her Legilimency skills were better. Hermione considered trying anyways. The woman had tried to kill her, given that, a migraine was the very least she deserved. If it scrambled Lisa’s brain Hermione doubted she’d feel much regret.

  
The first priority was to determine what the woman had planned for this little time jump. Maybe, for once her life, Hermione was lucky and already been able to put an end to whatever plot had been happening. Doubtful, knowing her record, but Hermione could dream.

  
There was only one solution she could see, and it wasn’t going to be fun. She’d have to find some way to make the unconscious woman talk. Details would be crucial but where the hell was she supposed to start? Letting the frustration seep out even though the women hadn’t stirred Hermione threw another Stupefy before casting _Petrificus Totalus_ for good measure.

  
Straightening up, Hermione took a deep breath and started to take in her surroundings in more detail. The alley they had appeared in seemed to be between two abandoned buildings. Maybe her luck wasn’t that terrible. After collecting her belongings, Hermione stepped out of the alley to see where she could hide them away.

  
Thankfully, the area seemed to be completely empty of anyone else which was amazing considering she was fairly positive they were still in New York City. Right around the corner and to her left was door sealed with chains and a padlock. That would do for now.

  
With a flick of her wrist, Hermione silently and wandlessly cast _Alohamora_. Once the chains dropped and the door opened, she turned back to the unconscious woman. Maybe it was spiteful, but no one ever accused Hermione of being overly forgiving. She felt no remorse as she prodded the woman with her foot, probably harder than needed, just to check if she was still out.

  
Deciding that Lisa wasn’t stirring yet, Hermione levitated her and moved towards the unlocked door, body floating behind her. Once they passed through, Hermione found a lone rickety chair and deposited the unconscious woman. She turned back to the door and secured it with a privacy ward and Anti-Muggle wards.

  
There wasn’t much in the building to work with, but the barrenness seemed to help clear her mind and solidify her resolve. Hermione observed the smaller women wearily. With a sign she aimed her wand and secured the woman’s wrists and ankles to the chair and cast a Stinking Charm to keep her in the chair.

  
Confident that her prisoner wasn’t escaping easily Hermione transfigured a piece of debris into a table and rested her bag on top. Carefully, she removed the files she’d stolen before their little time jump. They all had the same disturbing symbol that Lisa had etched into her forearm. The Dark Mark had been monstrous on its own, but this adaptation was nightmarish.

  
Hermione spread all the files across the table. The thickest was stamped with the words Operation Zurückstzen. **Operation Reset.** Lovely. That at least answered what the objective of this little adventure. Reset what, though?

  
She flipped open the folder and shuffled through the papers. Her German wasn’t proficient enough to understand the details but in the top corner was a picture. It was a black and white photo of a young man, probably no older than his early twenties. Small thing. She could hear Mrs. Weasley clucking her tongue at seeing how skinny this man was.

  
Though she had no idea who this person was she felt her temper flare as she read the comments under the photo. “Locate, convert, if conversion fails, eliminate.” There was plenty more, but Hermione had seen enough. Enough to know that no matter the time, the place, or the people there was always someone that saw themselves as superior and all others as expendable.

  
She’d had enough. Enough of fighting and enough of sacrifices. But with little hesitation she knew she was throwing herself into the middle of it all over again. The woman in front of her had every intention of altering the timeline. After everything their world had already survived, she wanted to kill a man who already appeared to be battling for his health.

  
Sparks jumped through her curls like a current as she worked to suppress the anger running through her.

  
Hermione braced her hands against the table and breathed deep. It would do her no good to lose control on her anger right now. When she was alone she could cry and rail against fates. Grasping her wand, Hermione transfigured a few more pieces of debris into jars and conquered little blue bell flames.

  
The dark room filled with an eerie blue glow. It was subtle but would hopefully unsettle the other woman enough to give Hermione the upper hand. Hermione spread the folders out and removed a modified recording device from her bag.

  
The piece had become invaluable after she had managed to charm the muggle device to work in the magical world. When she became an archivist, she’d developed a habit of talking to herself as she worked, the need to track ideas and thoughts necessitated something more substantial than a Quick-Notes-Quill. It was just a shame that she hadn’t packed her full potions kit. She made sure there was always a small vial of Veritaserum in there.

  
Hermione set the device to start recording before casting a Finite on the body bind. With a smirk, Hermione skipped using a simple _Rennervate_ , instead, she blasted the woman with a cold stream of water.

  
Lisa came to sputtering and gasping as she pulled on her bound wrists. “Thank you for your prompt attention, Miss Phillips. I’m positive this will be a most productive session. You’ll provide me answers to my questions and, in return, I’ll make sure you make it through this in one piece.”

  
With an air of nonchalance, Hermione leaned back against the table as her wand tapped rhythmically against the surface. The smaller woman’s face contorted with contempt as she stared at Hermione. Her lips pulled back into a snarl. Just as she opened her mouth to spew whatever vitriol she’d thought up, Hermione hit her with a _Silencio_.

  
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Miss Phillips. You will speak when I allow it. If you wish to see beyond this bare room, you will answer my questions. I’d strongly advice cooperation because I have little patience left.”

  
Hermione straightened up and moved to stand in front of the woman. She stepped in close invading the woman’s space. It forced the bound woman to crane her neck back uncomfortably in order to maintain the eye contact.

  
“Now. Tell me what you intended to do with the device.” Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and left her wand on full display. It made it clear that though Hermione may seem like the more logical and calmer of the Golden Trio there had been a good reason she’d been listed as Undesirable #2.

  
Each spell Hermione cast was eating away at her already quite finite energy reserves. Her body was crying out for sleep. But there would be no rest until she got her answers.

  
The woman continued to glare still silenced. “I imagine you plan to just remain silent once I remove the spell. That’s fair but you won’t be successful.” Hermione moved in closer and circled around the woman.

  
She stood directly behind the chair Hermione placed her hands along the back and leaned in until her chin was almost resting on the other woman’s shoulder. Hermione took satisfaction in the tension that pulled across the woman’s shoulders and the slightly panicked breathing she was struggling to hide.

  
In a low and eerily calm tone, Hermione spoke directly next to Lisa’s ear. It was biting and offered no sense of warmth or comfort. “You will find that I have very little tolerance left for plots, intrigue, and sects set on reshaping the world on some arbitrary idea of superiority. It’s exhausting and, quite frankly, played out. So, understand this and understand it well.

  
“Should you choose to withhold information I will not have any issue using any means necessary to extract it from you. I’m tired of fighting but that won’t stop be from doing just that. If I was younger you might have been granted more leniency but not now.

  
“If you won’t speak, I will burrow into your mind and take what I want.” Hermione paused and pressed her finger into the woman’s temple enough to be painful. “Legilimency is a skill I’m still working on, but I’d have no problem using you for practice. And I would have very little guilt over the damage it might cause you.”

  
Hermione straightened up, gave the woman’s shoulders a squeeze and moved to stand in front of her once more. Her face was still the picture of calm and there was even a gentle smile directed at the woman. “In fact, should it incapacitate you in a permanent fashion my life would be made that much easier.”

  
Hermione was pleased to note that most of the color had drained from the bound woman’s face. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she must look imposing in the ghostly blue glow of her blue bell fire.

  
“I’m going to release the silencing spell. Are you ready to cooperate?” Hermione transfigured another chair across from Phillips and sat down demurely as she pointed her wand, noting the slight flinch the woman couldn’t stop, and removing the spell.

  
The chair had been necessary. She didn’t want the woman to see that the wounds Hermione received from their fight through the office were causing her any trouble. The poor light in the building helped hide the blood that had slowed but still stained her pant leg.

  
The two women sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione lost her patience. With a silent flick of her wand, a Stinging Hex hit the other woman squarely in the stomach.

  
She struggled against the ropes, trying to curl up in pain. Regaining some strength, Lisa managed to snarl at Hermione, as she spat out, “You weren’t supposed to be there to interfere. I should have just killed you, Mudblood.”

  
Hermione just rolled her eyes and sighed. Insults and death threats hardly phased her anymore. “You probably should have killed me but that’s irrelevant now. What was the plan for the device?’

  
“To see the end of filth like you, of course.”

  
The curls that had escaped her braid bounced as she shook her head and made a _tsking_ sound. “Yes, yes. I’ve heard this song before. But for who? You set this too far back for it to be Voldemort. And in the wrong part of the world. I know inbreeding has impacted your intelligence, but I was unaware it was this bad.”

  
Lisa’s cheeks took on a ruddy hue as Hermione gave her best innocent face. The angrier the woman became the better chance she’d slip and tell Hermione exactly what she needed. Just as the woman looked as if she’d try and spit on the British witch, Hermione leaned forward and grabbed her by the chin, thumb and fingers along her jaw squeezing enough to make stop the other woman’s actions.

  
“Let’s not be uncouth. Should you wish to act so poorly I will make it most uncomfortable. My dear friend once showed me how to make someone vomit up slugs.” Hermione released her with a slight shove. “Let’s try this again. What was your plan? What is that bloody awful thing on your arm? And who is the man in the photo?”

  
“Stupid Mudblood! I brought us to exactly where I needed to be. Voldemort was never going to succeed. He was too obsessed with becoming a god. I’m here to make sure a true leader is victorious. Then you and your dirty kind will be made to serve. We belong as the rulers, not rats creeping in the shadows.”

  
Hermione cocked her head to the side and ran her hand gown her face. “Really? That old trope again? Exhausting. Do you ever get tired of the same futile scheme?” With a flip of her hair, Hermione straightened back up. “Now. The symbol. What is that monstrosity?”

  
Lisa smiled wickedly and stared her dead in the eyes as she hissed. “Hail Hydra.”

  
Before Hermione even realized what was happening, she watched as the woman broke off a false tooth and bit down. Hermione couldn’t stop her gasp as she watched foam bubbled up out of her mouth and as her body twitched before out one last breath.

  
“Well, bugger.”

 

* * *

  
After she gathered all the files she’d laid out, Hermione stared down at the body of Lisa Phillips, unsure of what to do now. What was she supposed to do with a body of a woman that had tried to kill her before trapping her decades in the past?

  
She couldn’t risk the attention that would come from any suspicion of foul play. The discovery of a seemingly respectable woman in this state and this location would undoubtedly draw too many eyes that Hermione would little afford.

  
Hermione settled on a solution, though it left a poor taste in her mouth, but it wouldn’t cause too many questions and she wouldn’t feel like a complete monster. Really should have just incinerated the woman but even a fire in an empty warehouse at a busy dock would be noticed. Hermione pointed her wand at the body and transfigured the clothes to something time appropriate, dirty and a little ragged.

  
Next, she removed any jewelry and checked her over for anything that could be of use before she mussed up the woman’s hair and dirtying her skin. Last, Hermione found a little stone and transfigured it into a bottle of morphine. It had been one of the drugs of choice during this era, so the idea of a woman overdosing couldn’t be too far a stretch.

  
With the way Hermione altered Lisa’s appearance, she had little doubt that there would not be much effort made to find out who the dead woman was. The tattoo may cause a bit of a mystery but there wasn’t anything she could do about that right now.

  
Taking a last look around the space, Hermione reverted one of the chairs back. Now she just needed to take care of herself. She would never blend in her current state of jeans, trainers, and a fitted blouse.

  
She took to her grandmother for inspiration. She had been young during this time, and Hermione could recall some of the old photos.

  
Hermione, for once, was thankful for the generous curves she carried since this eras style would work well for her body. The hourglass look was what women strived for and her body naturally formed to the ideal.

  
Deciding that simple was best, Hermione altered her clothes to a simple jersey knit shirtwaist dress. Four large white buttons stood out against the emerald green color and accented her trim waist with a brown leather belt. Her shoes shifted to a pair of matching brown leather sensible Oxfords with a small kitten heel. At the last moment she added silk stockings. Her Nana always loved to remind Hermione when she was younger that a respectable lady never went anywhere without proper hosiery.

  
Whether she was pleased with it not, the outfit would have to do. She had to brace herself against the table as her vision went a little hazy. The strain on her magical core was leeching the energy right our of her. She’d have to find a place to rest soon so that she could recover. It was a wonder she had been able to take care of her clothing.

  
Taking deep breathes to ground herself, Hermione stood back up, slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, tucked her wand away, and walked away from one complication managed. Having gathered everything she needed, Hermione took one last deep, grounding breath and stepped through the door without a single look back.

 

* * *

  
Once she’d left the warehouse Hermione realized she had another major problem that needed to be resolved. It was 1940, she was a single female with no family, injured, no money from that era, and no clue where she was and where she could go.

  
Thanks to Harry’s paranoia she had plenty of money. The challenged she faced now was finding the local Gringotts branch and have everything converted. Thank Merlin wizards were so set in their ways. British wizarding money hadn’t changed since 1260. She’d have to convert her galleons into Dragots, before having that converted into American dollars.

  
The one easy decision she’d had so far was her choice to stay part of the muggle world. _The no-maj world_ , she corrected herself internally. There was less chance that she could impact the timeline if she stayed away from the wizarding community. In this city, as a muggle, she’d have a greater chance blending in until she could return. Since wizards lived longer, Hermione wanted to avoid the chance that she’d meet someone in this time that lived to hers and what that could mean for the future. Yes, it was best to stay as hidden as possible.

  
At least she was in New York and had less chance of running into any of the families she would meet in the future. She just sent a prayer to anyone listening that her translations had been correct and that she could move forward and actually return to her own time.

  
If not, she’d have to adjust to the idea that she’d be a Yank from here on out.

  
Hermione stepped out of the little alley where she’d first landed. She was troubled to see the sky growing darker. There was no possible way she’d be able to find a bank and have her money converted before nightfall.

  
Which begged the next question: what was she going to do for lodgings tonight? She doubted there would be any place that would just take her on her word that she’d pay when she could. It may be a different era, but it was still a big city that was feeling the strain of the Great Depression.

  
This wouldn’t be the first time she’d been without a safe space to sleep. Hermione had just hoped those days were well behind her. And this time she didn’t have a spare tent in her magical bag. Maybe she’d start acting a little more cautious like Harry when she was home.

  
At least this time there was no one hunting her down. Or so she hoped.

  
That was one more thing to add to the growing list of concerns. Lisa Phillips must have been in contact with someone that would provide her the needed cover, shelter, and information she’d need for her mission. That meant somewhere there was a person expecting a now dead woman. She could only hope that they would just consider her lost to the ether when she never showed.

  
One problem at a time, however.

  
The most important issue to resolve was where she could go until she’d handled her money situation. New York in 1940 couldn’t be that different. She wouldn’t have any issues finding a place that was open all night.

  
So deeply lost in her thoughts, worried about what she could do to get along here, Hermione didn’t realize where she had wandered until loud voices startled her. Outside the dim alley, Hermione realized it was not quite as late as she though. Apparently, she wasn’t just in a warehouse district, but at the docks. Right at quitin’ time, apparently, if she was to judge by the shouting of the men around her.

  
Hermione needed to move quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was to be found by one of the workers as they headed for home. Not as a woman, on her own, and unescorted in the evening during this era. Frankly, there were few cases where she’d want to be lost in this city on her own regardless of the decade.

  
She turned one more corner and felt a little more relaxed. Up ahead were a group of ladies all congregated together. They were more than likely waiting for husbands, boyfriends, or family and they were providing her the perfect cover to leave the area.

  
She needed to find a place to rest soon. After that fight through the MACUSA, traveling so far back in time, and having dealt with Miss Phillips, Hermione knew she was barely able to keep moving. The cut on her leg was slowly scabbing over but cracked open if she moved to quickly and the burn on her arm needed to be cleaned as soon as possible.

  
Part of her, the terrified part that was perilously close to going into shock, wanted to go back and hide in that abandoned warehouse. With how active the area was, though, it would only be a matter of time until someone stumbled upon her. The absolute last thing she wanted was to be found with a dead body almost eighty years in the past.

  
Maybe as she made her way farther into the city she could find an old paper. There had to be listings for possible boarding houses. She could potentially even find one that was just for single women. That would cause less of a fuss and keep attention off her. All she wanted in that moment was a nice cuppa, a bed, and a quiet moment to just cry. She’d more than earned that right.

  
She could feel her grip on her composure slipping more and more each minute. Inside she was screaming that this had to all just be a nightmare that she’d wake from any moment now. She’d be back at her little government assigned apartment in America and she’d rush to the Floo to call Ron and Harry. They’d listen to her crazy dream and joke around with her until her pulse was back under control and she could laugh about how silly she had been.

  
Knowing she couldn’t let herself get distracted by the hopefully fantasy, Hermione had to battle to keep herself breathing properly once more.

  
Slowly, Hermione wove through the group of women and the men coming off the dock to meet them. Most seemed to be handing over small envelopes. That, at least, helped her narrow down the day. Friday. Pay day. Which meant if it was the end of the day there was slim chance she could find a magical bank, exchange her money to Muggle money, and still find a place for the night. Now she’d need to not only find a place to rest but she’d need to find a place that would allow her to stay the weekend. Could this get any worse?

  
Hermione felt utterly lost. Even in the worst days of the war she had the boys and before then she’d had her parents. Here and in this time, for the first time in her life, Hermione was completely alone.

  
She struggled to keep moving as her vision started to blur, the tears threatening to fall at any moment.

  
In her distress, Hermione was oblivious that she had started to catch the attention of a few people nearby. All she could focus on was the exit just a short distance ahead of her. Her body had begun to protest any more movement and it was sheer force of will that kept her legs from giving out beneath her.

  
She passed through a gate that had almost castle like turrets on them and moved to the side to lean against the brick wall. People filed past her quickly, on their way home or out for a night with a loved one. They paid her no mind beyond a curious glance or two.

  
It was a bit of a shock to see how lighthearted most of the crowd looked. Hermione recalled that in this time the US had been recovering from their Great Depression and still had yet to be truly touched by the building war across the Atlantic.

  
Hermione rubbed at her face to try and clear her eyes and refocus. She could feel a headache creeping up on her.

  
She studied the area as best she could. So, this was the naval yards. Which meant Brooklyn. It was an area that had a large Irish population. With that thought Hermione may have found her solution. Couldn’t she try and take refuge in a church? Or was that too far back a practice? Either way she thought it could be worth a try.

  
With a grimace, Hermione pushed herself off the wall and panned her gaze down each street. She couldn’t see anything close that looked like it might be a church. When she turned to look to her left, she noticed a younger girl watching her.

  
She was lovely for her age. Light brown hair was pinned back with braids before falling to her shoulders. Her bright, curious, blue eyes watched Hermione until they made eye contact and the girl looked away.

  
Being spotted by the young girl made the choice of which way to walk for Hermione. She didn’t want to move closer to the curious girl and risk more attention. Hermione pulled her bag tighter to her and turned around. Looked like she’d be taking the right out of the shipyard and wherever that would lead her. She’d follow some of the people leaving which should take her out of the more industrial areas.

  
Her movements were slower than she’d like as she made her way down the street. The October sunlight was fading steadily, and fatigue was engulfing her body. She had to stop and steady herself against the wall again. Everything in her just wanted to give up and pick this spot to rest. At this rate she wouldn’t be making it very far very fast.

  
“Hey there, girlie.” Hermione whipped her head around at the accented voice. It sounded vaguely Irish with a New York inflection. Definitely a man’s voice by the tone. “What’s a pretty dame like you doing down here on your own?”

  
The man was big, at least half a foot taller than her, and broad. He was clearly ending a shift considering the amount of grit and oil clinging to him. The man might have been considered handsome by most but Hermione could see something in his eyes that had her guard up. There was an unpleasantness to the way he was looking at her. The two others flanking him didn’t make her feel any more secure.

  
With a forced smile, Hermione straightened as best she could. “Just making my way home.”

  
Everything in her screamed to move quickly away from these men but her body was could not cooperate.

  
“I ain’t seen you around here before, doll. And I’m pretty sure I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

  
“I’m new to the area. Just in from England.”

  
“Well then it should be my duty to make sure you’re enjoying our little part of the world. What do ya say you be my squeeze for the night and we hit the dance hall?”

  
Hermione didn’t like the way they had started to crowd around her. They had moved in on her fairly quickly and with her back to the wall there was little she could do to move away. She felt it prudent to make as much space between them as she could. Trying to not be obvious, Hermione inched her way farther along the wall.

  
“That’s really very kind of you to offer but I have to be going. Besides, I’m not much of a dancer.” She tried to leave but was stopped by a hand grabbing her elbow.

  
“Sweetheart, I don’t think you really want to turn me down. A sweet thing like you wouldn’t want to break a man’s heart, now would ya? Now why don’t you come along with us, love. Me and the boys can show you around town and have a swell time.”

  
“While I’m sure it would all be lovely, I really must be going. I’m sure there are a number of ladies who would be more than happy to join you, gentlemen. Have a good evening.”

  
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. You don’t want to embarrass me in front of my boys. Now come ‘ere.” Hermione bit her tongue as his large hand moved and grabbed her injured arm and pain flared through her.

  
Before she could fully recover from the shock of the pain, Hermione felt herself being pulled away from the wall. He released her arm in favor of throwing his over her shoulders. There was little she could do to stop him as he began walking them farther down the street and away from other people.

  
“Excuse me but, as I said, I really must be going. I was on my way to meet someone.” Hermione tried to shrug his arm off. “Maybe we can go dancing another night.”

  
Hermione stumbled a bit as his arm tightened across her shoulders. The stink of sweat, oil, and grime wafted off of him and surrounded her. She drug her feet when she noticed that he had started to lead her away from the main road and off to another side street that looked deserted.

  
“See, I tried ‘ta be nice and have a fun night but ya just had ta be rude ta me and the boys. We don’t like a dame who thinks she’s too good for us. Come on fellas. We’re going to have our good time.”

  
The air rushed out of her as her back was slammed into the wall. The scent of them invaded her senses and caused her stomach to roll. Hermione shut her eyes tightly as his larger body held her pressed against the building wall.

  
Her arms came up and she placed her hands on the man’s chest, trying her best to push him away. “All you had to do was say you’d go dancing, girlie. Now me and the boys are gonna have a different kind of fun.”

  
**No!** This was not going to happen to her. Not after everything she’d already survived. But no matter what her thoughts were demanding, she could not get her body to move as commanded. Until now, she’d managed to keep her fear and panic in check, but this was just too much.

  
She wasn't sure when she started to cry but she could feel the tears spilling down her cheeks. Here was the girl that had slapped Malfoy for his cruel words and the young woman who had endured torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange and come out alive and sane. Yet, here and now she never felt so close to giving up.

  
All the trauma, stress, and uncertainty of today and the past few weeks beat down on her as the tears fell. All she wanted to do was curl into herself but she couldn’t move pinned as she was. The pain and fear surged through her, Hermione felt the anger building at the injustice of her life right now. What more could she give the universe before it decided to let her have a quiet, normal life?

  
She struggled, writhing and wigging until she worked one of her hands free, and managed to land a solid, stinging blow to his cheek. Hermione tried to shift so that she could reach her wand that was pressed tightly to her side. She could feel it but could not reach. With the rage that filled this man’s eyes after she hit him she didn’t dare look away to see if she could find an opening.

  
“Boys, grab her hands.” The two other men stepped up and grabbed her wrists and it felt like manacles. “Looks like there’s a bit of a fighter in this girlie.”

  
Why hadn’t she called for help? Why couldn’t she find her voice to make any sound at all? The only thing she seemed capable of was shaking in their grasp.

  
She’d have bruises on her wrists with how tight they were holding her. She felt fingers trace down her cheek almost gently. “A pretty dame like you shoulda never wandered around places like here alone. You never know what kinda people are out here.”

  
The two buffoons holding her laughed as she kept fighting against their grip.

  
Hermione shuddered when she felt rough, cracked lips latch onto her neck as a big hand moved to span her waist. “You smell so pretty, sweetheart. You got to be a real lady or something. Never had me a real lady, right lads?”

  
The men must have taken her lack of screaming as a sign that she was giving up because their hold seemed to loosen a bit on her. As the ring leader moved in to kiss her, he gave a loud and pained shout.

  
Hermione’s head was ringing. Who knew it would hurt her so much to head butt another person?It was worth it as she his weight easing off of her. She took advantage of their shock and surprise while she had the chance and shifted to kick the one’s holding her as close to their knees as she could reach . It wasn’t much but it made them back up a step.

  
“Keep your hands off of me!” She used what force she could muster and yanked her wrists out of their grasps.

  
Hermione tried to rush by and back to the street as quickly as she could. Her heart thundered in her chest and her breath was quick in sharp.

  
A hand grabbed her hair from behind and made her head wrench back. The shock of pain forced a sharp cry as Hermione struggled to stay on her feet after the sudden shift in momentum.

  
Just wanting to get away as fast as she could, Hermione reached for her wand. In this situation she would be surprised if they punished her for breaking the Statute of Secrecy. A quick _Flipendo_ would be enough to break her free and give her the chance to run. If that didn’t take care of them she’d throw a _Bombarda_ to scare them off.

  
She felt the wand just at her fingertips. The wood was warm to the touch and she was fairly certain that if it hadn’t been tucked so close to her body it would have fired off a curse on it’s own by now.  
She gripped her wand, as she  caught sight of movement at the alleyway opening. It was enough to make her pause. She felt no concern over hexing her attackers, but now there was a witness.

  
From what she could see there were two people who stood not too far from her. One was about her height and the other was shorter, probably an older child. Unconsciously, Hermione lifted one hand up, reaching towards the new comers hoping they were here to help.

  
“Geez, Callaghan. Let the lady go! Becca go find your brother.” As one of the figures moved away, Hermione could see that it was the girl who had been watching her earlier. Never had she been more thankful for curious children than she was right now. The young girl stopped and looked back over her shoulder at the scene they must all be making before nodding at her friend and running off.

  
“Scram, Rogers. This ain’t none of your business.” The hand tightened in her hair. Hermione hissed with the pain and her hands went up and her nails started digging into the hand and arm holding onto her.

  
She had to scratched him hard enough to really feel it because the next thing she knew he was cursing in her ear and roughly shaking her head, trying to get her to release him.

  
“I think the lady said hands off, you creep. Let her go.” Hermione watched at the smaller man made his way toward them. As he came closer, she could see that he was a smaller man but with a recklessly determined look on his face. She was far too familiar with that look after all the years she’d spent with Harry.

  
He also looked like a gust of wind would knock him over. But at least he cared enough to try and help.

  
There was something about the blond that struck her as familiar but now was most assuredly not the time to dwell on that.

  
The most remarkable thing about him was the fierce look in his blue eyes that looked like it belong on a man twice his size. It screamed that this was another man always finding trouble and never being able to walk away if it meant others could be hurt.

  
“You don’t know when to stay out of things, do you Rogers? Walk away, crumb, I’ve beat you up enough this week.”

  
Hermione wasn’t going to wait for this posturing to play out and took advantage of the distraction this Rogers provided. Bracing her feet, Hermione slammed her elbow back into the stomach of the man, Callaghan, who was holding her.

  
Once he let go, he doubled over clutching at his stomach. Hermione didn’t spare a second before she ran towards this Rogers fellow. He extended his arm to reach for her and bring her closer, sparing a quick moment to look her over. His fierce blue eyes took in her fear and his face settled into a steady resolve. “Ma’am, are you alright? You may want to get out of here.”

  
“Stupid bitch, you’re going to pay for that after we take care of Romeo here.” Callaghan shook off the hands of his friends who had reached for him after Hermione broke free and left him winded.

  
“I’m not leaving you here with three against one.” She wasn’t sure how much she had left in her but she’d give whatever there was.

  
The two goons came at them quickly and she could hear the painful sound of a fist finding it’s mark. Her rescuer went down hard beside her. He recovered and took to his feet much faster than she would have thought possible.

  
Refusing to stand idly by, Hermione placed her hand against her wand and muttered the tripping jinx under her breath. It managed to take out one of the attackers and the man, Rogers, used that moment to take a swing at the other.

  
Hermione was so focused on the two in front of her that she missed the other men regrouping until she was grabbed roughly from behind and thrown away as Callaghan jumped back into the fight. All three men were circling round her rescuer and started to pummel the poor man. They completely ignored her as she screamed for them to stop.

  
The moment she started to slip her wand free and hang the consequences she felt a gentle pair of hands move her back. This stranger quickly passed her and grabbed one of the men by the scruff and pulled him off the blond. There was a crack as his body was tossed to the side, his head hitting the brick wall.

  
There was no hesitation in this newcomer as he jumped between the men who had attacked her and the poor man who’d only tried to help. She had to give the credit, for such a small person he’d held his own better than others she’d met twice his size.

  
Hermione started as a soft, little hand slipped into her own. She shifted to see the young girl from earlier staring at her with big, blue eyes. “Don’t worry. My brother will fix ‘em.”

  
Indeed, this girl’s brother did seem to be holding his own. She flinched at the meaty sound of fists meeting skin. He was squared up with both Callaghan and his lackey and guarded the smaller man as he stared down the men. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

  
The second goon went down hard from a solid right cross hook to the chin. She didn’t know who this new person was she really hoped he made these men hurt.

  
“Can’t get a decent dame to step out with you, Callaghan, so you got to rough up a lady in some alley? I’m going to enjoy knocking some sense into you.”

  
“Shut your mouth or walk away.” Callaghan swung and it was easily dodged. The larger man stumbled a bit has his momentum unbalanced him. The new fighter ducked under that man’s arm and hit the Callaghan’s torso.

  
With out taking his eyes off his opponents, he called to his sister beside her. “Becca, start heading home.”

  
They were joined by the blond man. “Are you alright, miss? I’m Steve and that’s Bucky. Let’s start heading out of here.”

  
The two fighters seemed to be evenly matched but Steve’s friend, Bucky, seemed to be a touch faster, giving him the advantage. Until Callaghan managed to land a solid hit to the man’s face. Hermione winced in sympathy as he staggered back. He feigned a step to the left and managed to lay a solid hit to Callaghan’s kidney.

  
The man coughed and doubled over clearly winded by the blow. His opponent took the opening and sent a hard left hook to the cheek.

  
Hermione didn’t get to see the man go down, though she heard it, because the goon who’d gone down first had grabbed Steve by the scruff. The blond swung as best he could but they weren’t having any effect on the bigger man.

  
This had just gone on too long. The man holding Steve had his back to her. No one ever felt threatened by her.

  
That was their mistake.

  
Summoning the last bit of her energy, Hermione aimed the strong kick to the back of the man’s knee. There was an audible pop before he hell forward with a shout. That drew the attention of the blond’s friend. Steve managed shake the hold on him loose as the man went down.

  
It would have been funny, in any other circumstance, to see how big his eye grew as he watched the petite brunette take her bag and swing it into the back of the man’s head.

  
The man dropped like a rock.

  
For the second time today, Hermione stood over the sprawled body. Thankfully, this one was still breathing. This was becoming a far too familiar sight for her.

  
“I can’t leave you alone for a moment, punk.” The man who had taken out the gang dropped his hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “You alright there, Becks?”

  
“Yeah, Buck, I’m alright but I’m not so sure about her.” The girl Becca, reached towards Hermione and gently touch her back. “Miss, are you okay? That must have been scary.”

  
Hermione couldn’t help the harsh, tearful laugh that escaped her. She swiped at the tears that were drying on her cheeks. “Everything today has been a bit frightening.”

  
The girl’s eyes shone with a sadness for Hermione’s sake. She reached for her hand again and looked up at Hermione, “My name’s Becca. Those fellas over there are my brother Bucky and our friend Stevie.”

  
“Hermione Granger. Thank you for the help. I seem to have found myself terribly lost.” She tried to offer her best smile but it looked forced and sad.

  
The one Becca had pointed out as her brother came over and placed his hands on his sister’s shoulders. “Just glad we were close. Those three ain’t no good. Let’s get you girls out of here. We’ll take you to our Ma and get you, me, and Steve all patched up. Then we can get you to where it was you were headed.”

  
“Ma Barnes is used to patching up people. Maybe she’ll ease up on us this time, Buck, since we can honestly say we didn’t fight just cause.” The two men shared a grin, the blond with the beginnings of a black eye and the brunet with a split lip.

  
Hermione finally took a good look at her rescuers. She was barely able to contain her surprise when she realized the reason the blond, Steve, looked familiar. This was the man from the files she had hidden in her bag. At least the powers that be made one thing easier in her life.

  
She pulled her eyes away so should wouldn’t be caught staring. The last thing she needed was them to think her crazy instead of just helpless like they most likely thought of her already.

  
“Come on, let’s get a move on before it gets too late out and Ma tans my hide for keeping Becca out so late. Though she can’t be too sore when we’re bringing home a pretty dame.” Bucky winked at the woman. She looked dead on her feet but he’d been impressed with how she was handling the entire situation. Tough broad for sure.

  
Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach as Bucky flirted with her. She knew he was probably just trying to get her to relax but anyone would be excited to have the handsome man’s attention.

  
And there was no denying that he was handsome. Under the dirt of the work day she could see well defined cheekbones that she wished to run her fingers down and an strong jaw line covered in a layer of faint stubble. The most captivating feature were the eyes that were taking her in just as much as hers. They were a beautiful blueish grey color that held equal amounts of warmth and mischief.

  
She had to force herself to look at her surroundings again just to collect her bearings again. The little hand in hers squeezed and and brought her attention back to the girl beside her. “You look tired. Bucky, let’s get her home.”

  
Hermione could only slowly follow as the girl pulled on her arm and led the group back out to the street. Becca may have been young but the girl was stubborn. If she was smarter, she’d thank them and be on her way but there was just something about these three that had her finally feeling safe.

  
“Here, doll, let me take that bag from you. Hate for you to think there’s no gentlemen in this city.” She hesitated but with the fatigue settling in her body she was hard pressed to deny that grin. Hermione was just sore enough that she’d take the risk and let the muggle take the bag. As long as she was near his sister she doubted he’d try and take off with it.

  
“Thank you. I don’t know how I can repay you for your help.”

  
“Don’t worry about that, ma’am. If it wasn’t to help you it’d probably be something else that caused the fight. Not that all we do is fight. Umm well I mean it’s not unusual but this time it was a better reason. Not to say that they start for bad reasons.” Steve stammered out clearly feeling more awkward the longer he went on.

  
The brunet laughed and tousled his friend’s hair. “What the punk means is we’re glad we were there to help and you don’t need to do nothing.” Bucky smiled down at her as he moved to walk next to her and Hermione knew her trouble was just starting.


End file.
